Here There Be Dragons
by Lore55
Summary: The people of Hanamura knew better than to step foot in the old castle. The foreign criminals did not. Neither did the man tracking them. McHanzo, Blackwatch era, Dragon! Hanzo Shimada
1. Chapter 1

**This is loosely based on the Jackie Chan Adventures episode 'The Lotus Temple' . It's also my first time writing for McCree and Hanzo, so please be gentle with me ^^**

The people of Hanamura knew better than to step foot in the old castle. They had been born to the whispers of curses, to the dark clouds the circled over it for all but one day in the year. Their children played games, dared each other to touch the gate, to look upon the stone dragon that wrapped itself around the gates and glared down with eyes that warned of a storm. None of them were foolish enough to cross over the wall. None of them were foolish enough to dismiss generations of promises to never enter.

To forsake their lives just for a glimpse inside.

None of them were international weapons smuggler sprinting through the city with a target on their back. None of them were strangers jaded to the world and it's supposed curses.

None of them could recognize something ancient and powerful for what it was. And so they scrambled over walls, throwing backpacks and bodies over into a pile of weapons and limbs.

One boy dropped down, landing on his ankle wrong. It was visible even from the vantage point Jesse McCree had taken up residence in. He leaned on the tree trunk, watching the kid scramble to pick up a bag when the one in charge, a nasty piece of work that called himself Glitch.

The Blackwatch operative narrowed his eyes. If they got into the castle proper and fortified it, he'd have to cave and call for some back up, or say fuck it and just destroy half of the building in a firefight. If he took them out now, he'd be making a mess of a courtyard, but it would be quicker and over faster.

Too bad Reyes wanted him to bring in Glitch alive. Too bad some of them were kids.

 _You were a kid too, in Deadlock,_ he reminded himself. He hadn't been doing kid stuff then and these kids weren't doing kid stuff now. If they'd come all this way from Germany, they knew what they were getting themselves in. No one worked for Glitch for long without knowing what it was going to cost them.

Jesse idly wondered if they knew that Glitch's real name was Iverson Bemesderfer.

Probably not.

Jesse breathed in deeply, mourning that he couldn't smoke on the clock, and drew his piece. He was readying himself to jump from tree to wall when a sound invaded his ears. It was almost too low for him to notice, at first.

His implants picked it up before he really did. Typically they dulled the blast from gunfire so it didn't blow his eardrums out, but they also caught and amplified certain things. Things that might register as a threat.

Things like the low roll of thunder that beat inside the castle walls. The sky was clear, the castle was empty, save the invaders.

Jesse blinked.

Something moved. A flash of lightning through the courtyard, an explosion of action that cut through the crooks, leaving blood and guts in its wake. Blue caught the light, thunder grew louder, echoing in tandem with screaming. A gun went off, then another, a flurry of bullets flying at the flash of light that tore through the crowd.

To the side a grenade went off, tearing through five men and throwing the blue back into a wall hard enough to crack it.

For just an instant the carnage stilled. Jesse knew moments like these, when the fight went from hot to cold, bodies frozen in motion where the only things he could hear was the pounding of his heart and the world zeroed in to the sight at the end of Peacekeeper.

This was different.

The sound he heard drowned out his heart, the beat of thunder on the horizon. Peacekeeper stayed down, at his hip. That didn't stop the ice in his veins. That didn't stop the way the world darkened until there was only black and white and red and for the first time in his life blue.

Blue. Brilliant, glowing, blinding _blue_ burst through the Deadeye he didn't call upon, burning itself into his memory. Scales shimmered in his vision where they fell to the ground, blue warring with red. The serpentine body curled in against the wall, stone collapse frozen around it.

One of the kids had turned a machine gun on the creature when it impacted.

Jesse blinked and the world returned. Peacekeeper smoked faintly in his hand and six bodies hit the ground. A girl who had hefted another grenade, the boy with the machine gun and the four people closest to Glitch. For an instant his eyes locked with the creature's.

His heart beat once and the beast erupted once more, red and blue lashing across the ground, cutting through bodies. It felt familiar, the death, the massacre, watching his targets fall. Not at his hand, true, but he knew folks that favored the blade over gun smoke or bare fists. It felt like that.

Glitch had sense enough to turn tail and run, for the wall. Jesse couldn't bear to tear his eyes away from the scene but he forced himself, vaulting to the ground to intercept, jogging to where Glitch would end up over the side. The shadow of his head fell over Jesse's shoulders and he stepped back so he could be ready to subdue him. The target managed to get almost all the way over the wall before he screamed.

Jesse met him beneath the red shingled, catching the part of his body that came down. Most of him, at least. His legs had been sheared off.

Jesse touched his comm and called for a medic, focusing on what he knew. He coudln't think about what he'd seen, what he'd learned was real. He had to keep his mind on the job, or he didn't think he could keep from trying to catch one last glimpse of the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

The Dragon inside Hanamura Castle.

* * *

What Jesse saw never made it into his official report, the one that went into the files that Blackwatch sent to Morrison. Jesse had almost withheld it from even Reyes, but in the end he told him the full truth, if for no other reason than he couldn't think up another way to explain that he'd only shot six people and when extraction had been completed there was no sign of anyone having been inside of Hanamura Castle at all.

Jesse had no idea why Reyes believed him. As long as he didn't send him to Mercy for a head check it was just fine by him. .

After Glitch he had stuck mostly to the America's, north and south. Hunting down other rogue agents, taking down gangs one at a time. Usually he was partnered up with someone, Genji preferably, or even Reyes on a couple of memorable, _explosive_ , occasions.

The next time he went to Hanamura it was on his own terms.

Jesse passed the castle three times the first day. He knew that going the same place on repeat was a messy mistake, it made it easy to track him. Easy to make a target out of him. Jesse just couldn't help it. He was drawn to the building and the being inside of it.

He wanted to know more.

He asked around, but his Japanese was terrible and the english explanations he got were mostly centered around staying the hell away.

The second day he climbed the tree he had been in two years before to look inside. There was no sign of the carnage, no sign of dragon. Nothing at all.

Jesse left with a stone in his guts.

He hung around his hotel room for the next few days, checking out where he was going next and berating himself for not just hopping the fence and going in.

He cleaned his six shooter about a dozen times, polished his boots, mended his serape and anything else he could do to keep his mind occupied and off the castle. He wanted to go in. He wanted to see the dragon again.

He did not want to die.

Every time he almost got up the courage to poke his head into the dragons den he remembered Glitch's legs. A single snap of massive jaws and they were both gone. Jesse was already missing one arm, he wasn't sure he wanted to lose any more parts.

He was putting Peacekeeper back together after her fourth cleaning of the day when a knock sounded on the door.

"Housekeeping!" was announced. In a voice that didn't match the one that had come every day before. Jesse had time enough to grab his hat before the door came off its hinges and he was shoved out the window from the power of the explosion.

He hit the ground running.

* * *

Jesse McCree was not known for his brilliant ideas. Genji thought he was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag and had delusions of immortality. Reyes thought he was a punk with a penchant for ignoring common sense. Morrison… Jesse didn't even want to know what he thought.

Maybe Genji was right. Maybe, Jesse was just totally insane and had diluted himself into thinking he could make plans that wouldn't end up in his death. Jesse had always been a few steps ahead of the reaper, kept there by the bodies he dropped behind him. He'd only ever been good for talking shit and shootin folks, which probably explained how he'd gotten this hair brained scheme in his head in the first place.

His boots beat against the back alley, splashing though he-didn't-want-to-know-what. Footsteps followed him second behind, just far enough that he didn't have to start dodging bullets yet. Peacekeeper rested heavy in his fingers, hammer pulled back, waiting to be released.

He bolted around a corner, his aim coming into sight. The rooftops rose high in the setting sun. Jesse took a deep breath and poured on more speed so when he threw himself at the wall it was the momentum carried him halfway up. His free hand caught the top, metal clanging audibly and he swung himself up, over the top. A gun raport broke through the sounds of the city around just before Jesse rolled over the roof and dropped to the ground below.

He crushed some poor, unsuspecting bush under his weight before he pulled himself out of the clawing foliage. Blood ran down his arm from the new hole in his shoulder, slicking his grip on his piece. Heat burned through his shoulder and along his ribs.

He touched his side with his metal hand, hissing. Damn. He hadn't been counting on being hit.

Voices crowded around the wall he'd just dropped over, accompanied by the clinking of metal and the clicks of weaponry.

At least that was going according to plan.

Jesse wiped his bloody palm on his pants before he went back to running, steadying his grip on the pistol. Behind him, pursuers had started to climb the wall.

"Sorry about all this, darlin," he told the castle. " Ah, wasn't expectin' all this trouble."

Which was ridiculous. He should have. Trouble followed him in a shadow of misfortune.

More bodies dropped down behind him. He picked up his heels and ran. The front gate was in sight when he turned the corner. Blood trailed behind him. For a long minute he wondered if he really had lost his marbles those years before. If he had imagined the blue dragon.

Then the thunder beat through the earth. Someone screamed behind him. Jesse threw himself forwards, against the gate, managing to scramble up. From the high ground he turned his sight back, to the dragon that tore through the pursuers like they were nothing more than paper. It was incredible, awe inspiring.

Jesse lifted his hand, pulled back the hammer and shot. One by one his targets fell, crumpling to the ground. Never once did he strike the dragon that coiled through the intruders. Jesse had seen rattlesnakes slower than this.

The last of his pursuers crumpled to the ground, a bullet in their head. Wind blew through his hair, tugging at his hat. The thunder beat harder in his heart.

Jesse opened his mouth to say something, anything. All that came out was a shout when the gate beneath his feet cracked and fell, collapsing backwards, sending the cowboy down with it. The air rushed from his lungs, leaving him choking desperately.

He barely got his breath back when something cast a long shadow over him. Jesse brought his shooting hand up on instinct, levelled in between two gold eyes. The dragon loomed over him, baring its teeth. Thunder rumbled around him, growled from between the dragons fangs.

"Well, don't that beat all," Jesse breathed. He sat up, slowly, letting the weapon drop. He could shoot from the hip just fine. The man drew his legs away from the creature's fierce claws. His heavy boot knocked some stone, sending it clattering off the door and into the street. Tight muscles tensed under thick hide and the dragon moved a threatening inch closer. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything so pretty in his life.

Pretty like a rattler with it's scales shining in the sun. Pretty like the barrel of Peacekeeper after he'd just polished her. Pretty like Ana Amari.

Pretty and perfectly capable of killing him.

Up close he could see it's eyes in the burning light, golden, flecked with brown. Surrounding that was pale scales, practically white, beneath a slim patch of fur that could have been spun from his mama's wedding band. Whiskers of the same color flicked in front of him, floating in the air with a serenity that was sharply opposed by the massive, pointed teeth being shown to him. Under the drawn lips was a beard that chased backwards, edging jaw that could have taken Jesse in whole. It edged up along with sharp point, horns maybe, that crowned the dragon's head till the point of a blade of fur that drew from the tip of the head to the end of a long, long tail.

"Ain't you somethin'?" Jesse slowly moved, so as not to startle the creature, pushing himself into a stand. The dragon made no move to stop him. "Thank ya' kindly for the help," he nodded to the bloody mess behind the dragon and took a respectful step back, his heart beating hard.

It released a growl that shook him to the core, one that rolled through the scales that flashed beautifully. Jesse realized that where the scales faded from the near-white around the eyes and lips into a deep, ocean shade they were tipped with the same gold he could see in the dragon's eyes.

Jesse took another step away, watching the dragon the whole time. As soon as his boots were off the door it jerked, twisting, and disappeared. Doors that been broken repaired themselves and lifted back into place. It shut hard.

Jesse was left with a bullet in his shoulder, a graze in his side, and a pair of shaking knees.

Something caught in the light, the stone he'd kicked earlier. It sang blue in the dimming light. Jesse did a recount.

He also had a scale.


	2. Chapter 2

**So. No reviews? If there's something wrong with this I'd like to know.**

Jesse was cutting it close when he returned to Hanamura in under a two weeks. If Reyes had seen him he would have boxed his ears and told him how stupid he was. If Genji had seen it he would have demanded to know what tail Jesse was chasing.

How could he explain that it was a dragon's?

The young man had left his hat and his serape in his bag this time, despite the chance of the headwear being crushed around with what few personal items he kept with him. There was next to nothing he owned that he couldn't replace. His hat, his favorite red serape, Peacekeeper, and now the glittering dragon scale that weighed down his pocket.

Jesse didn't have the poetry of words to describe why it was so important that he return and see the dragon once more. It was a bone deep need, and ache that buried itself into his lungs until breathing was difficult without thinking of the magic he'd seen.

Something deep inside his gut dragged him back to Hanamura, in the darkness of the moonless, clouded night. Jesse had always trusted his gut, it hadn't lead him wrong yet. Not when he was a lawless brat running around the red desert, not when he was a Blackwatch agent fighting to repent.

Not now, when he was nothing more than Jesse McCree, he had no one and nothing to trust except for his insides.

His shoulder wasn't healing well. He should have gone to a doctor, but there was no one in the country he was sure he could trust. Angela was off in war zones, and even if she wasn't with Overwatch's break up he wasn't sure she wanted to see any of them these days. She never had liked their violent tendencies.

Jesse shook his head and pulled his hood closer to his face, hopping around a corner to approach the castle for the third time. The vice on his ribs started to ease when he came into sight of it's high walls. It was hard to make out in the dark of the night, but Jesse could see well enough. He moves quickly, quietly, crossing the near deserted street until he was standing at the gate once more.

He lay his metal hand against it and pushed. It swung opened without a hassle, setting his teeth on edge. The hair on his arms stood up. The quiet creak of wood brought his eyes and his gun up to his right. Down the barrel a man stood, bow pulled back to his jaw. Dark eyes narrowed at Jesse down the shaft of a wickedly pointed arrow.

If Jesse was being honest, he'd take being shot with a bullet over an arrow anyday.

"Go no further!" the stranger ordered, his voice sharply accented in english. "Intruders will be dealt with harshly."

Jesse's mouth twitched upwards. He couldn't see many features, but the scowl was audible.

"You live here, darlin'?" he asked, making a show of keeping his shoulders lax. "I ain't plannin' on causin' any trouble."

"You cannot enter here. Invaders will be cut down. Leave now!" the man snapped harshly. His eyes flashed in the darkness.

"Well now, I don't see why we got to have conflict," Jesse tried to pacify the man in the dark. If he was one of the folks that was after Jesse's head, he'd have already shot him. He had gotten the drop on the cowboy. Only Genji could do that. This man, whoever he was, was dangerous.

Above him, thunder rolled. Unlike the thunder he had heard before it didn't beat through his bones, it shattered overheard, bringing with it a storm. Rain came down in a sheet that soaked Jesse all the way through in a matter of seconds.

"Well, shoot," he tilted his head ever so slightly, but did not take his eyes off of the man in front of him. "An' here I am without a hotel room."

"Then you had best get one," the stranger told him harshly. Jesse was inclined to agree. Still, Jesse turned a crooked smile on him, adjusting his weight to lean a smidge closer. The Stranger drew back instead of shooting him. So he didn't want to kill Jesse? Funny.

"It'd be mighty kind of you to let me stay a night," he drawled, all in jest.

"I told you, intruder's will be executed!" his temper was showing in his voice. There was something else there too, something frayed. "You saw the dragon before. He will be summoned once more if you go further."

Jesse ran his fingers through his hair, wildness slicked down to his skull. "The way I see it darlin', I ain't an intruder if I'm invited here."

There was a beat of silence. The rain came down in a blanket of water. Beating an off tempo on the shingles and the concrete. It was hard to hear anything through it, even as his implants adjusted to picked up in between raindrops.

"I do not know if that would work," the stranger said at last. Then, "What is your name?"

"McCree," he should have lied, his brain said. His gut said that he needed to tell the truth. "Jesse McCree. Pleasure."

The bow slowly came back from it's draw, arrow pointing to the ground. His hand touched the gate, sending it further open. Inside the dirt was dark with water, the plants bent over heavy with it. Jesse couldn't quite make out what they were, and he hadn't been looking very closely on his last two visits.

"You have seen the guardian of this place, and you still wish to enter?" Jesse's new friend asked. Jesse nodded. Peacekeeper slipped back in her holster. There was a sigh. "Then I, Shimada Hanzo, invite you to this castle."

Shimada. That was Genji's name.

Jesse tried to remember if he was supposed to bow, since he couldn't very well tip his hat, and settled on inclining his head with a smile he hoped could be seen.

"Thank ya kindly," Jesse stepped inside, trying not to favor his side to obviously. He'd almost healed the graze there, but the excitement of holding someone at gunpoint had aggravated it, and his shoulder. Blood started to pool under his shirt.

"Only until it is safe to leave," the stranger, Hanzo, added. Jesse dipped his head in acknowledgement. He could deal with those terms. Though, it was hard to say when 'safe' would be. When it stopped raining? Or when people stopped shootin at him?

Lightning lit up the yard, treating Jesse to a glimpse of Hanzo's face. A flash of brown eyes, long, tar black hair, and clean shaven cheeks. He was watching Jesse, like he was waiting for something. Then the darkness swallowed him again.

"Don't s'ppose we could go in the buildings?" He put forth. Bleeding in the rain sounded about as fun as being shot again. Jesse was the child of red rocks and dust storms. Rain was a rarity, and brought flash floods with it more times than not. He didn't care for it much.

"Yes," Hanzo moved in the darkness. Jesse felt more than saw where he went, and trailed after him. He was quiet as a cat, light footed and quick. Jesse felt clumsy and unsteady behind him.

He knew, at least, to take his shoes off when they reached the door and leave them where the mud wouldn't track. He did feel a bit bad about all the water dripping off of his long coat. He shed that too, leaving him in just his clothes and armor.

An oil lamp lit, illuminating the long hallway in a soft light. Jesse stuck one hand in his pocket, fingers brushing the smooth scale that lay within for some semblance of comfort.

The room he followed Hanzo in was so perfectly clean Jesse didn't believe that anyone had been there for years. Like his mama's parlor, something he'd only ever seen from a distance. There wasn't the rosy wall paper or the pale couch he'd be smacked if he so much as thought about touching, but it gave off the same forbidding feeling.

Jesse felt like he had no place here, despite being invited in.

Hanzo turned towards him, giving Jesse time enough to get a good look. He was pretty in the flickering light of the small flame. Black hair was tied loosely at the base of his neck, besides the long bangs that framed his face. And what a face. Cut into perfect skin was a sharply carved mouth, drawn into a harsh line that set beneath a pair of fathomless eyes, such a dark brown they bordered on black. Gold sparked within them, along with something else. Something Jesse couldn't identify.

His clothes were traditional, from what little Jesse knew about Japan. A white, folding shirt tucked into brown pants, that went into red shin guards. On his left shoulder was tied a long orange sleeve, on his right was another piece of armor. Strong muscles showed in the gap from there to the lone arm guard and the thick black gloves.

He was built strong, even though he was a couple inches shorter, standing in front of him Jesse had no doubt this man could hold his own in a fight. Broader shoulders than Jesse's supported a quiver full of smartly fletched arrows, matching the bow that hung in his hand proudly.

All this an here Jesse stood, soaked in a black long sleeve shirt and his jeans. His armor was the only interesting thing about him, with his hat and his serape in the bag.

Well, his belt buckle too, which Hanzo was staring at very intently.

"Bamf?" he pronounced the whole word carefully. Dark brows drew together, furrowed in confusion. Jesse withheld a laugh at him.

"It's an acronym," Jesse gripped and tilted it so it caught the light, showing it off, "Pardon the language, but I am a 'bad ass mother fucker'."

Hanzo stared at him, mouth twitching ever so slightly. "How many children do you have?"

This time, Jesse couldn't help it. He started to laugh, hard, bending from it. His shoulder throbbed, turning the laugh into a choke. Shit.

He looked up to see if Hanzo had taken offense, and was rewarded a smile. Good. He hadn't noticed the shoulder either. Jesse stood up, hooked his thumbs in his pocket's and gave the man an easy smile.

"None a'tall," he didn't think he needed to ask if Hanzo did. The whole castle was clearly deserted, save this one person and the dragon protector. Where in gods name the dragon came from Jesse couldn't even begin to fathom. He knew there were things in the world he wouldn't understand, things he shouldn't mess with.

Jesse knew a part of the gorge, a little ways before the train cut into the mountain, where no one dared to step foot. A little cut in the red rock where it was more red than the dust, a darker type that didn't come from rusty dirt. Back when the tracks had been put down for the first time, hundreds of years ago, some of the workers had gotten it in their heads to unionize. They hadn't lived past their first strike.

That was just closest to home. There were ghost towns all over the southwest, places with bloody history that set his teeth on edge. Certain towns where he wasn't sure if he felt like he was being watched by the living or the dead. Folks thought he was crazy for refusing to drive through the west past midnight, but he'd been too close to death before not to beware La Mala Hora. He would swear up and down that he'd seen a woman in white at the shores of the Pecos.

There was more, once he stepped out into the world. He had never seen anything so blatant as a dragon before, but there was some shit he couldn't deny wasn't natural. His own goddamn eye had no reason to do what it did, but that didn't stop it from happening.

"Whatever family you have must fear for you. I do not own any communications…"

Jesse waved off Hanzo's courteousness. "S'allright darlin', ain't a family to call as is. None that'll lay claim to me, anyhow."

Not after he'd walked away from them.

Hanzo looked uncomfortable. Jesse briefly wondered what had happened to his family.

"You should dry yourself," Hanzo said abruptly. "Come."

Jesse kept careful track of what turns they were taking. Three left, one right and twenty feet down Hanzo opened the door to reveal a small room that reminded Jesse of a gym locker room, if everything there was made of wood and kept pristine.

Through another doorway Jesse could see a pond, a hot spring set into the ground. Large, smooth rocks bordered the steaming water, as well as a single small tree. A line of small stools set up above a long drain, each one paired with a wooden bucket.

"I will find you something dry," Hanzo offered, and vanished. He moved silently. Jesse envied the grace he managed to hold, steady, natural. He waited until Hanzo was gone before he stripped himself of his armor, his weapons and his clothes. He folded his pants and his shirt into a basket, keeping Peacekeeper well within grabbing rang if things went south.

Despite feeling out of place, he didn't feel like he was in danger. He didn't think Hanzo would hurt him. He hadn't wanted to before, he'd done nothing beside's try and shoo Jesse away from the castle. It didn't make for a very good trap, if that was what this was.

Once his clothes were gone all that was left was the bandages on his shoulder. They were just as soaked, with more than water. It blotched red straight through, spreading slowly. Damn.

A sharp intake brought him back to the door. Hanzo stood with an arm full of fine clothes, red and gold. He was staring at Jesse's shoulder.

"You're still injured?" Hanzo set the clothes down and moved closer to Jesse, looking at the hole in his shoulder that was weeping steadily. Still. Hanzo had been there when Jesse had been shot back then.

"I'm afraid so," Jesse was sheepish. He didn't know why, he got banged up plenty of times and he had the scars to prove it. They littered his body, all over, from botch jobs and successful missions. He couldn't think of a time in his life when he'd never had at least a few of them.

"Wait here," Hanzo set down the fold of clothes, shining with wealth in the dim oil light, and left again. Jesse was left with little to do other than wait and look around. He didn't want to get blood on the gifted clothes and he couldn't think of anything else that would take up the few minutes he had until Hanzo's return.

Jesse whistled softly, looking at the fine work put into the bath, the well worn stones, and the carefully woven baskets. There wasn't a piece out of place.

 _But as I looked around, I began to notice that we were nothing like the rest..._

Hanzo appeared as quickly and as quietly as he had disappeared, interrupting Jesse's little song. He wasn't holding a first aid kit, or anything even remotely like it. Just a wet handkerchief.

"I ain't tryin' to be rude now, but I don't think that'll be enough for this," he gestured to the hole with his metal arm. Hanzo's eyes lingered on that for a few seconds before he moved back to the task at hand.

"It will be sufficient," Hanzo assured him. Jesse didn't stop him when he pressed the handkerchief over his shoulder. His flesh hand spasmed when warmth flowed in through it, tingling along his nerves and into his veins. Jesse drew in a shuddering breath, the heat was replaced with coolness.

Hanzo pulled the now bloodied cloth away. Jesse looked down and had to double check that he wasn't imagining what he saw.

He prodded his shoulder, the cold fingers of his metal hand harsh against the sensitive space. Where once there had been a hole now there was just a little bit of new, pink skin.

"That's uh, a neat trick ya got there," he said slowly. He'd never been healed that fast. Even Mercy couldn't do it that quick. Just who was he dealing with here?

"It is an old family remedy," Hanzo said. He stepped a respectable distance back, giving Jesse room to pick up the gifted clothes. He looked them over, judging their size. They might be a little small, but it would do.

Jesse felt awkward in the clothes. He was pretty sure they were silk, or something else fancy and fine. Stuff he never wore, he felt uncomfortable in them.

"Thank you," he said again. Hanzo still hadn't relaxed. He looked like he was waiting for something. Jesse strapped his gun back on. If Hanzo thought anything of it, he didn't say. He was quiet while he watched the gunslinger.

Jesse had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

* * *

Hanzo made them tea to calm his nerves and still his hands. The brief contact he'd allowed himself on this man had his fingers twitching and his breath quicker. It had been so long since he'd touch any living creature of his own volition, without violence to drive him.

His palms itched to touch him again.

He gripped the cup tighter to keep himself in check. He could not allow himself to give up his control. The fact that the dragon had no burst forwards and slayne Jesse McCree already was as exciting as it was baffling.

Could it really be true that, in all these years, all he had had to do was offer forth an invitation and the spell that bound the castle would not take effect? So much bloodshed could have been prevented through such a simple solution, Hanzo had hardly dared to believe that it could be possible when the answer was offered to him.

" _The way I see it darlin', I ain't an intruder if I'm invited here."_

Who was this man that he had found a loophole so easily? Who was he, that he had returned now thrice after seeing the guardian of Hanamura?

Hanzo stared at him over his table, eye's half closed to hide his narrowed curiosity. Rain still beat over their heads, soothing the constant energy that rolled just under Hanzo's skin. He was restless by his nature, being restricted to the castle had only made that worse. He had years of energy he had never been able to rid himself off.

Jesse McCree sat across from him, inspecting the small cup in his large, calloused hands. Hanzo knew the scars of hard labor, McCree bore them all. Across his hands, across his arms, over all of his body...

Hanzo pulled his brain away from there before he could linger too long.

His hands itched to touch the man again. He could not allow himself too. The curse may have been abated for now, but he did not want to get attached. McCree would not be here for long.

Hanzo let his eyes drift away from McCree's face down to where the sleeve of his borrowed clothes fell back to expose shining metal. It moved just like a regular appendage, the wrist rolling and elbow bending easily. The fingers didn't twitch quite as often as real ones.

Hanzo knew that the world outside of his castle had progressed without him, he didn't know that they had gone so far. Human advancement had reached the point that he, a man infused with the magic of hundreds of generations, could have mistaken one for the other.

If not for the sense that told him when magic was involved, that is. A sense that told him that there was no magic in the arm, it was nothing enchanted. The metal did not sing with spellcast iron or magic worked steel. It was nothing more than a metal arm made by the hands of mortal men.

"Shimada," McCree said abruptly. Hanzo looked to his eyes. They were pointed off to the side, at a wall hanging of a green dragon twisting around itself. "Is that a common name in this country?"

A strange turn of conversation. His name?

"I doubt it," he frowned. He was the only Shimada he knew of any longer. If there were any outside of the castle, he had never heard from them.

"Huh," McCree finished his tea, slurping it rudely.

"And, your name?"

True, Hanzo had never been the most outgoing of people. This was a new level of awkward. Were they really discussing how many other people had their names?

"Well, there's me an' my folks, a couple in Texas, an' a few cousins out east. Er, west? They're all the way in Georgia."

Hanzo had no idea what he was talking about, he'd never heard of 'Georgia'. He nodded like it made sense.

"You're from, not Georgia?"

"Me? Nah, I came from New Mexico," McCree waved his hand around his head. Once more Hanzo acted like he knew where that was. The world changed around him, he had no idea which country McCree was talking about. What had the country outside his domain become? He remembered a war, men going off to fight. And another, and another. Half a dozen at least, with boys in armor and uniforms passing by his gates. Sometimes there would be wailing in the streets.

What happened, he never knew.

It had been a long time since he had spoken to someone from the outside world.

Luckily, Jesse McCree did not appear to mind his awkwardness and his rigid manners. He lounged in the chair with the grace of a hound, relaxation doing nothing to hide the strength in his hands and the muscle under his borrowed clothes.

He talked, about all sorts of things. A grocery store that had popped up down the street from the castle at some point, a horse he'd had when he was young that was so wild he finally let it run off with a band of mustangs.

He did not talk about dragons.

For this, Hanzo was grateful. He didn't know how much he was willing to share with this stranger. He knew how much he longed to, he knew how deeply it aches for him to finally talk to someone, to tell them everything he knew.

Instead, he nodded regally whenever the human looked to see if he was paying attention.

"Will you stay long?" Hanzo asked, folding his hands on his legs. McCree stopped his tale of snakes in his boots to look at Hanzo. Abruptly his smile closed off.

"If I'm invited to," McCree said carefully. Hanzo realized his mistake.

"You are," he said quickly. He was not trying to imply he wanted the stranger gone. Something shivered under his skin with the words. Magic.

The easiness returned with a toothy smile and a tip of a hat that wasn't there.

"Thank ya'."


End file.
